


The Ice Maiden

by Wanheda2



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), game of thrones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dark, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Not Beta Read, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25614811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanheda2/pseuds/Wanheda2
Summary: This is my first attempt at a fic.Please be gentle!Hipe you enjoy it.
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark, Roose Bolton/Sansa Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a fic.  
> Please be gentle!  
> Hipe you enjoy it.

What do we do to those who've hurt the ones we love?'

Petyr's words echoed in the recesses of her mind as she sat dreading her arrival to what she once called home.

She turned to glance at Lord Baelish, or Petyr, as he wanted to be called. He seemed calm and self-assured but his eyes held a certain kind of gleam that signified restlessness beneath. That gleam she recognized at the Vale, when he lied about mudering her aunt Lysa, and when she protected him. 

'Better the devil you know' is why she protected him, or so she believes.  
Sansa was becoming better at reading him. She knew that his plan to wed her to Ramsay Bolton held an underlying benefit to him, but she couldn't quite figure it all out. As she turned to speak, the carriage stopped signalling their arrival.

'Sansa, remember, this is an opportunity to avenge your family. They won't hurt you. You're the key to their rule in the North', assured her Petyr.

The cold air chilled her as she exited the carriage. This was not the North she remembered. She yearned for the way her father huddled her with furs when the frozen air blew. She remembered Robb defending her aversion to the cold. She even missed Arya's belittling jabs at her sensitivity. The North she knew was no more. The air was colder, the skies were a deeper grey, and Winterfell was no longer theirs. 'Oh, to go back to the beginning' she thought, when she believed life was still a pretty song for little birds to sing and where happy endings were real. 

'Welcome back to Winterfell, Lady Sansa', the rich deep voice brought her back to her harsh reality. Pale grey eyes greeted her, the eyes of a murderer, traitor and turncloak. She wondered what those eyes appeared like when he drove a dagger through her brother. Were they as heartless as they looked now? She stared back at him. Thin lips with a ghost of smile that didn't quite reach his soulless eyes greeted her back. His smile reminded her of Littlefinger's - a cold and calculating one.

She doesn't say anything for a while until Lord Baelish thanks Roose for his welcome and nudges her out of her reverie in order to look at her betrothed.

He has his father's eyes but with a manic glint.  
'It's wonderful to meet you, My Lady'  
Ramsay kissed her hand and bowed.  
She looked back at Lord Bolton who ushered them in. 

'Find our guests some suitable quarters' he ordered and looked back at Sansa and Lord Baelish.  
'I'll see you back at dinner, my lady' whispered Roose as he kissed her knuckles.  
Roose marched ahead of them with Lord Baelish following suit.

'I hope you'll enjoy it here, my lady' purred Ramsay, sickly sweet to Sansa.  
'I hope so too, my lord' she whispered back as she dreaded what was to come. The bastard had unnerved her, even more than his father did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter!  
> I hope you like it and I would appreciate any feedback!
> 
> The third chapter will also be posted in a couple of days.

The dinner was a torrid affair to say the least. For a second, Sansa wished to be back at King's Landing dining with Cersei and her bastard children. She sat there picking at her food trying to avert the lecherous looks she was getting from her betrothed. She turned her eyes towards Lord Baelish who sat conversing with Lord Bolton. 

'Do you not like the food, Lady Sansa?' questioned Ramsey

'Oh no my lord, the food is delicious. I was just feeling a little under the weather from all the traveling' replied Sansa.

'Oh you must rest My Lady. We wouldn't want something happening to you here. We'll take utmost care of you.'

Sansa forced a smile back at Ramsey. He was being too sweet for her liking. Lord Bolton noticed her discomfort of conversing with his son and sent Ramsay a threatening glare.

'Thank you Lord Bolton for your hospitality. I shall retire for the evening for I have a long day tomorrow. I'll be heading back to the Vale to discuss the terms of out alliance with Lord Royce.'

'Thank you Lord Bolton, Ramsay. I too shall retire to my chambers.'

They got up and headed to their rooms leaving the Boltons at the dinner table.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'She's such a pretty little thing. Don't you think so, father?'

'She's our key to holding the North, not one of your playthings to maim. You'll be marrying her tomorrow in the Godswood. She is to be your lady wife who'll bear heirs with both Stark and Bolton blood. You'll do well to remember that.' countered Roose

'She'll become my wife, my property. I will do to her as I please. Tell me father, if you weren't married to that fat oaf Walda, would you have taken her for yourself?'

'The question you ask is irrelevant. And what's important is that I am married now, and my wife is expecting a child. A legitimate one.'

Ramsay became unsettled as his father divulged this piece of information to irritate him. He slammed the table and rose up to leave

'And you will be respectful to Walda for she carries my child.'

His bastard was becoming much more of a liability. His insanity was harder to conceal. He was useful and got things done but Roose was starting to get weary of him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Lord Baelish'

'You can call me Petyr when we're alone, sweetling'

'I am worried about staying here alone.'

'They won't hurt you. From what I know, Lord Bolton is a pragmatic man. He does not oberplay his hand nor does he take unnecessary risks. He betrayed your brother when he got Tywin Lannister's backing to take the North. They need you now.  
Rest well Sansa, I will be back for you.' 

He leaned in and gave her a goodnight kiss, a small peck on the her lips. She looked into his eyes and noticed they held no deceptive gleam. Maybe he's right. Maybe she'll be alright here. Lord Baelish needed her alive too. He wouldn't place her in a precarious place where her life could be threatened.  
She turned and whispered a good night to him before entering her chambers.

She was back in her rooms. A young summer child taken by the tales of knights in shining cloaks and roses at tourneys. She glanced at the shelves where her dolls still lay. She remembered her Septa's teachings as a tear trickled down her face. She sat in her childhood bed recalling how Arya used to tease her and throw chunks of food at her. A bittersweet smile played upon her lips as she tried to go to sleep.  
However, no sleep would overtake her despited of how tired she felt.

She crept out of her bed and took a lantern with her. She had missed her childhood home. 

How Winterfell has changed. It seemed colder and almosy foreign to her now even though she knew every path. She strolled down to the crypts to pay respect for her ancestors when she shrieked in surprise.

'My Lady, there's no need to be startled. I'm Reek. I'm master Ramsay's pet'

She looked in disgust at what was once Theon Greyjoy. Another traitor. At least this one got what he deserved, she thought. Then, as he came closer, she could hardly see the boy she once knew. A shriveled ghost stood before her, nothing more than a living corpse.

'Theon' she pat 'You're Theon Greyjoy. Son of Balon Greyjoy. Ward of Eddard Stark. Traitor to the North'

'No, I'm reek. You should call me Reek. Lord Ramsay will not be pleased if you call me Theon'

'You'll always be Theon Greyjoy. A traitor and nothing more!' 

Sansa stormed off from the crypts with a million thoughts coursing through her mind. She was angry at Theon, she still is. She couldn't comprehend how he could betray her family, the family that sheltered him. However, when she looked at him today, anger wasn't the only emotion she felt. Pity, utter pity, was there as well. She began to question Lord Baelish's assurances of her safety with the Boltons. What had Ramsay done to poor Theon Greyjoy?  
She remembered her mother's words about House Bolton. Tales of how they flayed their enemies and wore their skin plagued her mind with worry as she felt sick. She rushed back to her rooms only to be greeted by pale soulless eyes.

'Lady Sansa, is everything alright? Should I ask for a maester?'

Sansa gulped as she stared at Lord Bolton  
'I was just taking a stroll around. I missed Winterfell, my Lord'

' It isn't the same as you remember, my lady. Eventhough my men began repairing it before your arrival, it's still far from the fortress that it was before the Greyjoys ransacked it.'

'Yes, you're right my lord'

'You'll be marrying my son tomorrow' Roose watched her as she gulped then pulled her face to a slight smile.

'Yes, my lord. It will be an honor.' 

'My son is not gentle, my Lady. He is quite fascinated with unorthodox hobbies.'  
He watched as her eyes were sprinkled by a hint of fear before being schooled back to normal. It seemed that her stay with the Lannisters had taken a toll on her. She was good at masking her emotions but he could discern the slight horror that flashed through her eyes. 

' Good night, my lady'

' Good night, Lord Bolton'

He stared as she entered her chambers and shut the door. Lady Stark may survive his son, after all, he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write.  
> It also has a rape/non consensual scene.  
> If this triggers you, then I advise you to skip that part.

Drip drop, drip drop... crimson drops of rain pouring down on a bed of white.  
Sansa couldn't move, as she stared at that gory sight. She stood there transfixed, unable to move.  
Her voice died and the only sound she could utter was silence.  
Her hands were stained red, but she felt alright lying in a pool of blood.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Startled, Sansa woke up drenched in sweat. Her hair was moist and for a second she checked her clothes for any sign of red. Thankfully, she found none. This was not the first time she was plagued with nightmarish dreams, but she had never seen this one before. She had dreamt of her dear father's execution, the scene of his beheading playing in an unending nightmare. She had been forced to relive Joffrey's torment every day since he ordered members of the Kingsguard to strip and beat her in the courtroom. However, this nightmare was new. It wasn't a past event that plagued her but seemed like an unnerving, cryptic premonition. Is it a prophecy of what is to come?

Sansa lay on her childhood bed dreading the coming day until sleep overtook her. This time, no dreams interrupted her rest. However, a loud knock on her door waa the culprit this time. The sun had already risen and she had a long day ahead. 

'Come in'

'Pardon me, lady Sansa, Lord Baelish has asked me to come here to inform you of his departure. He won't be here for your wedding because of some problems that have came up and need attending to'

'Thank you for informing me, Anya.' 

'My lady, Lord Bolton has also asked me to help you with some preparations for the wedding. Your wedding dress is ready, and I was informes that Theon will be the one to give you away.'

After the handmaiden left, Sansa sat dejectedly eyeing her wedding gown. She let herself imagine she was the heroine in one of the songs she loved so much as a child- clad in a dress worthy of a queen, pale and icy as Winter , and warm as the golden sun that shone in the south. It was beautifully embroidered and she looked every bit the regal woman she imagined herself to be in it. 

Her reverie was cut short when Theon, looking somewhat mortified appeared at her door. 

'Lady Sansa, the time has come for me to give you away. Would you please take my hand? '

'No. You can leave.'

'Please, Lady Sansa, you don't understand. He'll hurt me if I don't. Lord Ramsay doesn't appreciate any insolence.'

'And do you think I care what happens to you?'

Sansa angrily spat as she marched forwards slightly shoving Theon as she passed.  
Her plams were sweaty, and she was silently trembling. She didnt realize where she was until she stood in the Godswood, surrouned by unfamiliar faces in a familiar place. A melancholic memory passed through her mind, she could see Robb, Arya and Jon racing through the Godswood and could hear her mother's reprimanding. A bittersweet smile crept unto her face only to disappear seconds after she heard someone clearing his throat.  
She stared into the cold eyes of Lord Bolton who asked

'Who comes before the Old Gods this night?'

Theon came forward and replied  
'Sansa, of House Stark comes here to be wed.  
Fully-grown, true-born and noble. She comes here to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?'

Ramsay, came forward and with a sweet smile playing on his lips said  
'Ramsay of House Bolton. Heir to the Dreadfort and Winterfell.  
Who gives her?' 

'Theon, of House Greyjoy, who was'  
Theon faltered 'who was her father's ward.'

'Lady Sansa, do you take this man?' asked her Lord Bolton

An uncomfortable silence creeped its way before Sansa answered  
'I do'

Sansa's unease did not go unnoticed by Lord Bolton who couldn't blame her.

'And Ramsay, do you take Lady Sansa Stark as your wife?'

'I do' he replied smirking.

Sansa blanked for a few seconds before a kiss on her lips pulled her back to reality. She opened her eyes to look at the manic orbs of Ramsay amd stiffened. They were man and wife now. There was no escaping that fate now, as he ushered her to their rooms. Maybe he wasn't like Joffrey, maybe he would treat her better, Sansa thought. 'They need me alive and well to bare him some heirs' she tried to reassure herself, until she found herself in their chamber.

'Sansa, my father tells me that you are a virgin. Is that correct?'

Sansa visibly paled as she assured him of the fact.

'Why? Why are you still a virgin? Afraid of dwarves?' he questioned with a mocking tone.

'Lord Tyrion was kind. He was gentle. He never touched me.' Even though she did not like Tyrion that much, she felt the need to defend him for he was no monster. He was probably the most honorable Lannister she met.

'You're not lying to me, are you? Lying to your husband on your wedding night?'

Sansa felt uneasy. She wanted to escape. Maybe he was a bad as Joffrey, maybe even worse.

'We're man and wife now. You're mine.' He leaned in and gave her a light peck, followed by an order

'Take off your clothes'

Theon stood staring in horror at the scene unfolding before him. Ramsay had ordered him to stay and watch. He turned away to leave when Ramsay looked and said

'No, you'll stay here and watch. You've known Sansa since she was a little girl. Now, watch her become a woman.'

He came forward and tore Sansa's dress off to consummate the wedding.  
*  
Sansa could not comprehend what's happening to her. She had never imagined it to be this cruel, this humiliating, this debasing. She closed her eyes, as tears streamed down her cheeks and wished for all this to be over. The pain was excruciating, and the shame multiplied tenfold. She was on the verge of passing out when a guard came looking for Ramsay. However, he had already finished his heinous deed before leaving her torn and broken on their bedroom floor. *

Theon had gone away with his master, as she sat weeping, cold and alone on the hard unforgiving floor. She felt so sore from the intrusion, stood up and went down looking for the maester to ask for some lotion to ease her pain. She dragged herself down to the maester's chamber, but alas, he waa not there. 

She felt relieved that Ramsay had left for now, at least she won't have to face him. She had no strength left for that. She walked to the main chamber, saw it was empty and sat down to warm herself by the fireplace. She closed her eyes and hoped to go into a dreamless sleep. Moments passed, until she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. Thinking it was Ramsay, she stood and pushed the hand away in terror until she realized she was facing Lord Bolton.

'Lady Sansa, I did not mean to startle you.'

Looking at the state of her dress and tear-stained face, he grimaced in anger. What has his idiotic son done to her? Ramsay was far too unstable to realize this girl's worth. At this rate, she'd be dead before giving him an heir.

'Ramsay had gone off to take care of some trouble at the Dreadfort. He won't be back for a few days.'

Sansa felt a tad relieved at his words, but he shouldn't know that. She did not know how the relationship between father and son fared.

'I'll miss my husband, my Lord. I pray for his safe return.'

Roose stared at her.  
'I know you don't, my lady. You look hurt and I know that Ramsay is the one behind it. There's no need to lie to me.'

She stared in horror. Was her face so revealing that she did not know how to hide her feelings anymore? 

'I'm just sensitive my Lord. It's been a long time since I've been home, Lord Bolton, and I came here because my chambers are cold.'

He kept starind at her, nudging her to tell the truth, but she didn't.  
'I'll leave you to rest then, Lady Sansa, and to your prayers to ensure Ramsay's safe return home' 

He noticed as she scowled and said 'Good night, Lord Bolton'

Before leaving, he turned around and said  
'I'll make sure the maester gives you a soothing balm, my lady. And a new dress. You are also welcome to stay in my chambers. They are well-heated and I won't be there tonight, and Lady Walda had gone off to the Dreadfort.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, but some things came up.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Sansa groaned as she woke up the next morning, grumbling in pain as she surveyed her surroundings. She had fallen asleep in the hall next to the fireplace after her night of terror with Ramsey. She shuddered as she thought of the previous night- tears jerked again from her eyes as she recalled the helpless girl she was demoted to as he took her innocense away leaving her bloody, bruised and broken. A shell of the woman she had thought she had become under Lord Baelish's tutelage. She hated him at that moment- hate that rivaled that of Ramsay and Joffrey. He took her from one monster and handed her to another- just a pretty helpless pawn to be traded away and sold. He told her he would never hurt her, and yet he did. She was a fool to trust him- she had even begun to like him. I'm just a silly little girl with silly little dreams being tossed around as a prize.

She tried to stand up but yelped in pain. Her wounds were still fresh. She tried to get up to get the maester when she noticed that a balm was left for her on the table, as she recalled what happened last night. This must be from Maester Wolkan, Lord Bolton must've left it here for her. He had been kind to her last night, or as close to kind as Lord Bolton could get. It seems he knows what his bastard of a son is capable of. Speaking of Ramsey, she remembered that he has gone to the Dreadfort, as Lord Bolton has told her- at least she'll get a semblance of reprieve this few days. For a moment, she wished to have been wed to Lord Bolton instead of Ramsey - a thought she had shuddered at before when she thought Lord Baelish was giving her off to her brother's murdered, but now, that doesn't seem as bad as the deal she got. At least Lady Walda seems to be doing alright.

'Lady Sansa, how did you sleep last night?'

Sansa was startled as she heard Lord Bolton's low drowl. She turned around and said

'Well enough, my Lord. Thank you for the balm.'

He stared at her, and she felt he was staring right through her soul at that instant. 

'I've informed the maester of your injuries. You must apply the balm in order to soothe them. He'll be here to inspect them tomorrow and see how you're faring.'

' Thank you again, my Lord. Is there a handmaiden who can help me apply the balm?'

She carefully questioned him as she noticed him still staring at her with a penetrating gaze. A gaze she couldn't decipher at first, but one that reminded her of Littlefinger's when he let his mask slip for a while. 

'I'll try to find one to help you, but it looks like you're in pain. Let me help you, my lady.'

'I don't think this is appropriate my Lord.'

'I won't do something you're uncomfortable with. I'll find you a handmaiden. And, Lady Sansa, my offer from the previous night still stands.'

Sansa stood staring at him trying to deduce what his motives were. He was being almost kind to her, but she knew that he was a monster still- perhaps one that knew how to control his murderous urges better than most. And that look he gave her, a look that lasted for almost a second before he schooled his features back to masked indifference, chilled her. He reminded her of the look Petyr gave her before kissing her in the snow-clad courtyard in the Vale. 

'Good morning, Lady Sansa. Lord Bolton has sent me here to help you.'

'Yes, what is your name?'

'Ophelia, me lady'

'Ophelia, I need you to unlace my dress and help me apply this ointment on my back'

Waves of tingling pricking overcame her as Ophelia unlaced her dress. The cold feeling of the ointment was a welcome one. At that moment, she wished she was back home, as a child who didn't know any better waiting for a handsome prince to come and whisk her away to a life of happily ever after. 

'Do you need anything else, me lady?'

'No, thank you Ophelia.'

She stood up and headed for her father's solar, or what had once been her father's. She walked across the hallways reminicing of simpler times, times she had once despised. Oh how wrong she was, if only she could go back, back before it all, to change the course of her family's future. She was still thinking of times gone when she noticed that she had reached her destination. She took a few steps inside when she noticed that she wasn't alone. Lord Bolton sat in her father's chair, writing a letter or so it seems.

She turned away ready to leave when Lord Bolton called to her

'I hope you're faring better, my lady.'

'I am. Thank you, my lord.' 

'You used to come here often, Lady Sansa?'

' These were my father's chambers. I used to come here as a little girl after an argument with Arya. My father would welcome me here and let me take my grievances out while he sat and worked. He sometimes let me aid him.' she said wistfully.

' And now, I take it that this is no longer a place of solace to you, now that I am here?'

'No, my Lord. It just feels unfamiliar to me. I've been away from Winterfell for so long.'

' You are welcome here, my Lady. Whenever you feel the need to come here, you are welcome to do so, even when i'm working. A little company may serve you well.'

He paused for a while then continued

'You used to help your father run the keep. Do you know where the records are found?'

'My Lord, they're found in the room by the tunnels below.'

'Would you like to help in keeping track of our stores in order to prepare for the coming winter?'

She stared at him doubtfully. Was this some kind of perverse test? Perhaps to see where her loyalty lies, but his eyes seemed genuine enough.

'I'd be eager to my Lord.'

She gave him a curt nod and turned to leave when he spoke

' Ramsay will be back in a week's time. I hope that your wounds would have healed by then.'

He stared at her unflinchingly trying to rouse her. He noticed how her eyes flashed with anger and a hint of fear when he mentioned his bastard. Ramsay did not deserve her. She was wasted on him for he didn't realize her value as the key to the North. He should've been the one that wed her, at least, he would have treated her with the dignity needed to hold the North together. There were still many Stark supporters amongst his bannermen. If word cones out about Ramsay's ill treatment of her, dissent will surely arise. 

'My body is accustomed ti healing quickly, my Lord.' she replied as he thought about the horrors she must have suffered at the hands of Joffrey in King's Landing. 

After her conversation with Lord Bolton, she headed to the keep and took a look at the records that detailed the amount of crops and subsidies they had. She spent some time in the library perusing the records until sleep overtook her. 

'No, no no! Get away from me!'  
Her screams echoed across the halls as she struggled to break free from her recurring nightmares. 

'Lady Sansa' 

'No no leave you bastard!'

'Lady Sansa, you're safe now. Ramsey is not here.' Lord Bolton tried steadying her when she forcefully slapped him, still thrashing in the wake if her nightmare. His eyes widened for a second before he firmly held her in her arms as her protests died down. She wearily opened her eyes and let out a yelp when she saw the red mark of her hand on his cheek. If he was being nice to her before, she couldn't imagine what horrors awaited her now. Being flayed alive seemed like a possible route.

'Forgive me, my Lord. I never meant to slap you.' 

'Yes, I take it that it was meant for my son.'

She blanched in horror as she realized the gravity of the situation, when he calmly gripped her hand and tried to comfort her.

'I do not blame you, my lady. Your response is natural. Come along, I'll give you a potion that will help you sleep peacefully enough and I'll have your handmaiden help you to my chambers. You're to stay there tonight. I'll be sitting at the table beside you whilenI finish my work. You'll be safe there.'


End file.
